


More Than Four Walls and a Roof

by Unicornsfartglitter



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Daryl is a house, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Supernatural - Freeform, This is weird, should I say I’m sorry now?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 00:23:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15473388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unicornsfartglitter/pseuds/Unicornsfartglitter
Summary: Daryl is an house, lonely and abused until Rick Grimes and his family move into him. Their story can be summed up throughout their years together.





	More Than Four Walls and a Roof

**Author's Note:**

> This odd little story came to me yesterday. I would love to know what you think!

In 1985 a house was built sturdy and quaint at the end of the road. The finest carpet and outside siding were applied. It is only a foundation for some, none knew that it lived and breathed in a sense. His name was Daryl Dixon.

With every inspection passed a family moved in, an unruly mother and her two unkempt kids. There was no pride in where they lived for it was just shelter, four walls and a roof. 

Stains littered the bright blue carpet and the cats that lived inside clawed at the oak stained frames. Walls peed on by cats and sheet rock dented in by angry teenagers. If Daryl could cry he would, scarred up like damaged flesh inside and out. He was hollow and looking down the lane at a bright white house that was an actual home full of neatly trimmed shrubbery and vibrant flowers he knew he could be no more.

His state unkempt he deserved to live at the end of an unseen road. Anger couldn’t fester and he stayed still not quaking at the abuse that came by each new occupant. Daryl almost forgot his name as his windows clouded over in filth and his doors barely locked warped by years of damage.

When a curly haired man came looking he felt shame immediately, Rick as he heard him called wore nice clothing and new shined boots. He wasn’t trash and could never want him, his pregnant wife didn’t seem as kind but Daryl found himself opening the big and once grand window of his living room to show what a good view he could display if given a chance.

The realtor struggled to close it apologizing as Daryl made sure he felt warner, more inviting. The stench of cat piss and nasty carpets couldn’t be solved but seeing Rick look out through an overgrown front yard he dared to dream of more.

“We will take it!”

If Daryl could jump for joy he would but he couldn’t and as the wife screeched like a banshee the kind man explained what he could do, Daryl smiled his first grin on a sunny day.

It didn’t hurt being painted over, nails driven into his core. The floorboards pried away exposing his insides. Each scar slowly removed as he listened to Rick’s humming and offbeat tune when he occasionally decided to sing. He learned a lot about Rick when he was awarded marbled floors and cherry wood molding.

Looking at Carl lying still in a crib he didn’t worry of a messy child ruining him because he felt alive and at peace with Rick here. 

The breeze swayed the flowers that now grew in front of him. Two years and Daryl was whole again. Carl spilled juice across him in the living room and it was cleaned up immediately. Cheery paintings and family portraits littered his stark clean walls and the bright white house not far from him dimmed in comparison as he shined brighter than any other house in the neighborhood.

The first time Daryl ached in a beg to cry again was when Lori let a man into her bed, not any man but Shane who sat at the table for Saturday brunch and called Rick brother. Daryl yearned to kick him in the ass. Rick would come home and wash the dishes Lori left aside and kiss her goodnight, lie in their bed never knowing an ugly truth and yet Daryl got a pressure washing in the summer of ‘08.

Rick’s dad was an sheriff, Rick wanted to be a writer but when his dad died of an heart attack of all things Rick honored him. Sometimes his owner would write and read aloud his passages and Daryl wished he would publish a book because it was better than all the stuff Rick read to him from other authors.

He made sure to make Carl’s room cool as artic and Rick’s warm as summer because he knew what they liked and when Lori pulled his drapes shut he opened them once more because he was proud of his lawn and what Rick gave him and what Rick enjoyed matters most.

A protruding belly told him Lori was with child and he imagined another child running around but it wasn’t much celebration because he knew the deep dark secret. When Lori went off to visit her parents or friends Rick missed her at home in his empty bed but for her it was different. She took and was selfish and he knew Carl suspected as well if the glares to Shane gave any indication.

Yelling he hated filled his walls and every room. Lori was cruel and loud as Rick stayed silent rubbing his temples. She hated his respect of her, even manners at her harshest jabs. Each dormant reply made her sharper and Daryl felt sad as Rick became defeated but even at his owners lowest his lawn was still manicured and no water stains remained in any place.

He saw it, that the family would crumble. If Lori stayed he would be neglected but if she left along with Rick who knew which was worst. A room within him was painted pink and Carl fell in love with the girl next door, Enid. They kiss under an apple tree not far from him and he was envious how they could touch one another and love though he could feel that emotion as well. He could never touch Rick, dry his tears or tell him he would be okay because he was nothing but a house.

When Enid breaks Carl’s heart he can’t whisper in his ear to console him so he dims the lights and turns on Carl’s speakers by sheer will alone. It’s startling but relieving and he can’t delve into that discovery because Carl needs him. The sobbing dwindles and Daryl wishes to sit on his bed and help Carl out but all he can do is make sure his room stays cool and quiet throughout the night.

Rick slams his keys on the counter and rubs at his weary eyes. Carl is with his friend Sophia and the large window is open though it’s dark outside. The overtime shifts to provide for the baby who will be named Judith is tiring Rick out, Daryl thinks he may know now that Judith probably isn't his but it doesn't matter. Rick will provide for her, claim her as his own like he did for him. It’s better that way because Shane is volatile, he’s seen him voice raise and his anger escalate at even Lori who he says he loves. As he controls a warm gust of air through himself because Rick is home alone the phone rings. Daryl can’t shake as Rick runs out of the house panicked but he feels the shift, something has changed.

Hours later Rick drags his boots across his floors, mud splattering in a trail with no care. Daryl doesn’t let it bother him because his owner is crying, he falls to his knees and pulls on the rug, The faint touch of his skin caresses Daryl's floor as he clings to the rug. Only imagining he can hold him, hug him tight salty tears seep into him being swallowed by large gulps as Rick falls apart on top of him.

When the phone rings this time Rick answers with a horse throat, like chugging nails he tells Carol it all. She keeps Carl that night as Rick falls asleep on the cool floor. Lori is dead from a wreck, his daughter premature and Carl doesn’t know a thing as he hangs out with Sophia. Daryl swears he feels the drip of sadness across his siding as he rolls the rug across Rick’s weary body and closes the drapes because the sun won’t shine for awhile now.

Soft pitter patters run across his skin if you can call it that. Judith is two and she’s getting faster picking herself up when she falls on her butt. She’s got blond hair and blue piercing eyes like her daddies. A photo hangs on his wall and both men of the house point to it to show Judith their mother often. Carl and Enid are back together, happy and “going steady” whatever that means. Shane ran away the night Lori died, Rick hardly admits she’s probably not his but it doesn’t matter because the scars once inflicted on Daryl will never be on her. Rick is a good man and perfect father.

When the doors are forgotten to be locked Daryl clicks them shut, turning off the lights as well. Rick was in a bad place after Lori but he’s fine now, his bed still stays empty. Lori’s locket and photo placed on her side of the bed and the overtime shifts slow down as a dad stays home with his children, his beard growing out as he ages well with time. Daryl's floors are creaky but maintained, his cherry stained molding not quite as glossy but Rick still hums to him as he nurtures him with care. Large hands pet over him with pride and all the houses on the lane show wear but Daryl still looks the best after fifteen years with Rick.

Rick’s jittery again, staring at his phone and out the house. He shot a robber and her husband Phillips seems unhinged. He harrases Rick like he was in the wrong and no threats are made but many phone conversations let Daryl know Rick’s concerned with reason. Phillip Blake's daughter died awhile back and the compassion his owner shows to him is evident of a loving father who gets it but it’s not okay because one day Phillip shows up yelling, he drunkenly crashes a bottle against Daryl and knicks him up. Still calm and ever collected Rick doesn’t press charges and calls him a cab home.

The slamming of a beer bottle against him again feels serious this time, Phillip stumbles more as he falls at his steps. The door is unlocked and Daryl quickly bolts it up. Anger in dark eyes , the man kicks at his door, it hurts and he feels dread for the first time since Rick’s appearance when a lock pick enters him. He won't click and in aggravation Phillip screams quietly and premeditated tries again. When it doesn’t work he pulls on the window that won’t open either and frustrated Philip hits across his glass frames. It doesn't shatter and angrier than before Phillips screams.

“Rick! I know you are in there! Get your ass out here now!”

It's slurred but contempt driven and a few bangs later he sees Rick wake up. The silver flicker of a revolver pulls from the man's pocket and Daryl thinks hard as his owner unknowingly goes to the door.

It doesn't open and Rick yanks hard on his door angry and oblivious to what’s on the other side.

“Rick!”

Still clueless he hits on Daryl now too trying to get out and running to the back door. Holding on tight Darl’s bolts don’t turn and Rick sighs tyring a window.

“What the hell!” Rick screams angrily trying to meet with death.

Locking the childrens bedroom door for extra measure Daryl observes Phillip outside.

“What’s going on?” Rick whispers in confusion in his house still safe.

Going to the front door again he touches the window of his entrance that turns slick. Racking his brain Daryl thinks of a way to warn him. He is like a ghost but that only goes so far.

Picking up his phone to dial the sheriff Rick freezes at the rich red words seeping on his clean walls. “Don’t go out. Phillip wants to hurt you.”

Rick drops his phone in shock touching the words, red bleeding onto his fingers. It is not paint and he doesn’t understand as he smells the odd liquid thinking twice of tasting it.

“How is he going to hurt me?” Rick asks to an unknown entity.

Willing enough strength, Daryl feels funny in a way he can’t explain, he writes one word. “Gun.”

Through sheer panic Rick dials his precinct and in minutes Phillip who fires a shot and hits no one is taken in.

After hugging his children who woke up Rick touches the blue paint of his own bedroom walls. “Who are you?”

It doesn't matter because Daryl is nothing but a house, that can’t change and Rick’s safe so the day can end tonight but when Rick laughs and touches him, he swears he feels more and dark hair brushes against him, lips touching him he hears the next question. “Are you a ghost?”

Daryl is tired, he hurts in that odd way because of his silent words. He never sleeps but thinks he will try tonight. Turning the room down two degrees he answers in Rick’s favorite color this time, a dark blue a simple “no.”

Rick doesn’t ask who he is again and maybe his owner should be spooked but after a few weird looks over his shoulder in the shower a week passes and then more. The singing and humming as he’s cared for is softer and a fond gaze sets upon him frequently at random parts within him. Sometimes Rick opens his mouth as if to ask him a question but drops it.

Judith loses her baby weight and Carl thinks of colleges. Rick has a few girlfriends but never brings them home and Darl is relieved for that. He doesn’t know if it’s love or adoration but he never wants Rick to leave, fears Carl and Judith leaving and the old stairs that suddenly make him ache are pulled up and replaced and all is fine. He never leaks words to Rick again because it’s not needed.

A month later a man shows up, he curses and yells saying anything that comes to mind. Rick shakes his head and pats his shoulder affectionately and Daryl knows he’s here to stay. Negan shows up more and more, spends the night and Daryl closes his eyes to that room. He doesn't need to see that but he’s happy for Rick because he fulfilled. His eyes lighten up and he cracks a smile at corny jokes, even turns sassy and waggles his ass playfully and Daryl's siding weeps but in joy because Rick is a man and he is but a house.

A year later Carl goes to college an hour away, Judith starts school and the house feels empty but fingers still touch him and Rick never loses his marvel of him. Negan isn’t quite moved in but his possessions pool in like a steady stream and Daryl finds he enjoys watching Rick and Negan play ping pong and crack open cans of beer. When they start to kiss, his full window still open Daryl looks over the family photos instead, many changed but some framed like all those years ago and he closes his eyes but not to sleep.

In the morning Rick’s hair is unruly, Negan only in boxers like so many times before sits in a chair for breakfast. The aroma of a seasoned casserole and fresh squeezed orange juice make Daryl wish he could eat. He never thought like that before Negan came here, Rick always burnt the simplest of dishes. Watching in amazement as Rick leans over and kisses Negan’s lips he knows he will never feel that from Rick or any other’s lips.

“So baby, I have a proposition.”

The tone perks Daryl’s ears as much as Rick’s because his soft tone is more of a request.

“Gosh Negan if your going to ask me to ride your motorcycle again.”

“No, not that.” Negan laughs spooning food onto their plates. 

“My place is bigger and in the woods.” Negan eases in.

Daryl hurts, like a stab to his whole being. He knew Rick would leave him eventually but it feels too soon. Judith's birthday is next month and he wants to see it, they are planning to have pony rides and Rick was going to redo his rusting roof. Thinking of the house no longer white down the lane Daryl contemplates leaving the room to not hear the ending, his ending. No other owner will care for him like Rick.

“No.” Rick say’s cocking his head, the glint of his eyes showing determination so Daryl stays.

“No?” Negan asks.

Standing up Rick kisses him softly and smiles, his teeth gleaming as he strokes across the cabinets of his kitchen and takes his cup of coffee into the living room. Negan follows standing behind Rick as he touches the glass of his favorite window. Daryl has never let Negan know he exists..

“What do you see?” Rick asks as he looks out the window taking a sip of his coffee.

“Uh your nice flowers that you grow?” Negan answers inquisitively.

Tugging on the drapes, replaced many times now Rick takes Negan’s hand and presses it to the panel of the window. Daryl feels both their hands overlapping on him.

“This is my home, my only home. I can’t explain it to you but this place is mine until I die. It’s saved me.” Rick thinks back to that night with Phillip. 

“Saved you?” Negan squawks and tries to take back his hand.

“Rick presses on it firmly, squeezing it in a command to stay in its place.

“Yes, there’s a lot I haven’t told you but this place is like my brother.”

Rick ignores Negan’s bulging eyes, one’s that may think he’s insane and he tilts his head back and laughs heartily.

“I know, crazy right? And that’s not right. This house isn’t my brother or even my friend. It’s more than that. It’s kept me safe, sane and my kids and if you love me all you have to do is listen when I tell you more and accept...accept that we will never move out of this place. You can move in but I’m staying here until I die.”

Negan can’t grasp it but will accept it at least. “Sure baby. We need to have a conversation about this saving you thing because that’s well freaky shit but okay. I love you so I guess I’m moving in?”

Rick pecks his lips. “Yes, I’d like that.”

They finish breakfast and Daryl comes to terms slowly with Negan living within him. The pair have conversations and pack up the leftovers but when Negan goes outside to water the plants like he’s done for so long Rick closes his bedroom door and grins. Touching the wall just a inch from his light switch, the paint there is fading. It’s Ricks favorite place to run fingers across him. “I know, he’s moving in. I hope your okay with that. He loves me and I...I guess I kind of love you too? I don’t even know if you’re a house or something else. You told me you're no ghost but whatever you are. Thank you.”

It wasn't’ the first time and wouldn't be the last Rick thanked him, not just for Phillip but for his warmth and watching eye. Daryl wished he could think him too.

“All I really want to know is your name. I think you would have one and I would like to know if what you are is really a house but that doesn't matter as much.” Rick babbles touching that spot of fading blue once more.

He will be tired as hell from this later and he has to like Negan but doesn't have to have anything to do with him. Mustering up energy despite his old age he thinks it would be nice to somehow go away with Rick when he breathes his last breath he leaks out the most vibrant blue he can, possibly the last words he will ever tell to Rick though they never needed speech.

“I’m a house and my names Daryl.”

Swiping his hand across oily sleek blue Rick kisses the wall before going to the restroom to wash his hands and spend his day with Negan.

“Hey Daryl. Just know I’m here to stay.” Rick kisses the wall once more, lingering this time then walks out knowing tomorrow he will start to replace that roof and might even sing one of his bad tunes.


End file.
